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He pointed to Harold, who nodded silently.
I will not evade my responsibility with excuses.
“I say! I did not expect such behavior from an old comrade,” Hastings replied with bulging eyes.
“The Viscount of Lindley bears equal responsibility as he must agree,” Harold replied.
“I certainly do not. You have been sniffing after my sister like a hound in heat ever since her debut. And when challenged, you struck her!”
“I struck at you. What happened to Alice was an accident,” Harold replied, struggling to maintain his calm despite his determination to do so.
“Well, it is not a matter to be discussed in front of my guests.”
“Nor is this a place for the young lady to recover,” the physician said. “Your Grace, may we make use of one of your bedrooms. I believe it to be a concussion, no more. There is no sign of broken bones but a full examination is warranted and I cannot carry it out here.”
“Yes, whatever you need, Sir Winston,” Hastings said, using the doctor’s name, which Harold had not known.
Harold made to pick Alice up but Simon had interposed himself. Hastings snapped his fingers and two grooms hurried forward to carry her upstairs. Ruth followed, handkerchief held to her face to cover tears, her husband with an arm around his wife’s shoulder as they went.
“Redwood, you are free to go if you wish. I will not stop you,” Hastings said.
“I will remain here to speak to the constables,” Harold said coldly. “I will not run away from any consequences, though some clearly wish to.”
“Is that directed at me, Redwood?” Simon demanded.
“I say, Lindley. Have some respect for your betters. You may not like the man but he holds a superior rank to you,” Hastings ordered.
Simon only glared at Harold, who made a conscious effort to look away.
“Well, both of you come with me. We will await the constables in my private study upstairs. And I will expect the two of you to behave like Englishmen until they arrive.”
He turned and stalked from the room. Harold followed without a backward glance at Simon. He felt the eyes of the other guests on him, though the Duchess was attempting to persuade them to return to the music and dancing. It seemed like half the gathered guests had abandoned the ballroom in order to be spectators of the drama.
A further nail in my social coffin. Now, I will not just be the man who is invited but never accepts. I will become the man who is not invited in the first place.
The Duke’s private study was a large room of dark wooden wall panels, adorned with many examples of the Duke’s prowess as a hunter. A dozen deer heads hung around the room, each with countless points on their impressive antlers. Military standards and banners competed for space alongside paintings of famous battles.
The Duke stood with hands behind his back, in front of the fireplace, into which a fire had just been lit. He eyed the two men before him for all the world like a commanding officer about to reprimand two wayward juniors.
“Now then, gentlemen, for that is what I shall assume you to be. Can you explain to me why there is an unconscious young woman in one of my guest rooms and the two of you at each other’s throats?”
“I am at no one’s throat, Hastings,” Harold said, taking a seat. “I will admit that Lady Hathway and I are attracted to each other. We met on the balcony and I was accosted by this young…man.” Harold stopped himself short of insulting Simon, retaining enough self-control at that point to do so.
“I will freely admit that Lady Hathway’s tumble down the steps was a direct result of being struck by me. But only because she stood behind me when I was about to strike Lindley.”
“And what do you say, Lindley?” Hastings demanded gruffly.
“I was attempting to protect my sister from dishonor. You are perhaps not aware of the history this man has with my family,” Simon replied without looking away from Harold.
“No, I am not,” Hastings said.
“Suffice to say, I have reason to be wary when this man expresses an interest in my sister. He has previously seduced a lady who was betrothed to my brother. The result was a tragedy in which both he and she lost their lives.”
Harold sat quietly, not wanting to argue in front of Hastings, or give Simon the idea that any defense was required. This was not a court and he was not on trial. Simon knew the truth and had lied about it. He was also lying about the tragedy involving Eloise and Edward Hathway. Though the reasons escaped Harold.
Perhaps it is the truth as he sees it. But, my instincts tell me differently.
“That is quite an accusation. You suggest that Redwood had a hand in their deaths?” Hastings asked.
